Death of an Unsung Hero

by Tessa Arlen

Major Andrews evidently recognized dissenters when he heard them because he came to the defense of his patient. “Captain Bray was an exceptionally brave officer, Colonel. He was awarded both the Distinguished Service Order and the Military Cross in the first year of the war. He had been on continuous active service with very little leave for the first two years of the war, before the Battle of Beauville Wood. We have discovered in recent months that it is often our ‘heroes,’ the men who take the most risks, putting their men’s welfare before their own, who continually perform acts of bravery, that are more likely to become victims of neurasthenia or shell-shock, as it is more commonly referred to, than other officers. Their men are devoted to these officers and trust them implicitly, and their senior officers value their courage and leadership. But under continued and increasing pressure and stress they suffer from depression, which deepens and often leads to manic acts of courage…” He paused for a moment. “And then if they are not killed in action, they simply break down.”

  “Really?” The colonel was being polite and Clementine’s heart sank, as it was clear to her that Valentine was being tactful because of their friendship. He doesn’t like the sound of this at all, she thought, watching his eyebrows waving up and down as he tugged the corner of his mustache. “Well now, where was the rest of the hospital staff when the officers took their luncheon?”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “VADs, orderlies, and nursing staff take their midday dinner in the servants’ hall, sir. I am not sure…” Corporal Budge turned toward Mrs. Jackson, who had lifted her large, intelligent gray eyes from the carpet and had fixed them on Colonel Valentine as he turned and bowed his head to her. Sitting in a straight-backed chair by the window, her hair a halo of warm russet in the sunlight, Mrs. Jackson exhibited, to Clementine’s mind, the dignity and bearing of a great lady. Even though her humble origins were reflected in her Lancashire accent, her well-modulated voice had everyone’s attention, including, Clementine was amused to notice, a look of interest from Inspector Savor.

  “I think I might be able to help with where the staff was today, sir.”

  “Ah, Mrs. Jackson, I am sure you know exactly where everyone was before, during, and after luncheon.” Colonel Valentine smiled at the woman for whom he had the utmost respect.

  Mrs. Jackson bowed her head in acknowledgment. “Since many of our patients have returned to duty, most of our staff are on home-leave this week and it will be easy to look at our hospital timetable to see where they all were today. Junior staff eat in the old servants’ hall. The officer-patients and senior medical staff eat in the officers’ mess dining room. Everyone in the hospital eats at the same time, at one o’clock.”

  “And what time did luncheon end?”

  “Two o’clock, sir, same for everyone. Then we all went back to work.”

  “Are you telling me that you know where all the hospital staff was from one o’clock until half past two, when Captain Bray’s body was found?”

  “I know where everyone was supposed to be, sir.”

  “Well then, Mrs. Jackson, I would like you to remain behind so that you can give me a list of the staff and their duties, and I would like Corporal Budge to remain so we can go over his list of officers. Once we have an idea of where everyone was supposed to be, we will take it from there.

  “Now, Lord and Lady Montfort need to return to Iyntwood for the arrival of Captain Bray’s brother,” and turning to Lord Montfort: “When I have finished here, I will come over to Iyntwood to meet with Mr. Bray, and perhaps have a word with Lady Montfort if that would be convenient. Unless, Lady Montfort, you would prefer I return to talk to you tomorrow morning?”

  But Lord Montfort, ignoring Colonel Valentine’s desire to consult further with Clementine, said, “In that case, why don’t you join us for dinner this evening, Valentine?” His invitation was not extended to the inspector sitting in the most comfortable chair in the room.

  * * *

  “No point in rushing things.” Lord Montfort tucked Clementine’s arm in his as they walked down the steps of Haversham Hall and out into the late afternoon. “We are already woefully late to greet our guest.”

  As they set off for home, three men came into sight walking up the drive toward them. They were in uniform, and it was clear from their sunburned faces that here were the officers who had spent the day on farm detachment. As they approached, the second lieutenant in front stopped, drew himself up, and saluted.

  Lord Montfort nodded a greeting. “Looks like you have put in a good few hours today, all of you,” and to the young man who had saluted: “And where were you working today?”

  “Brook End Farm, my lord.”

  “Aha, so your harvest is nearly in; and you are?”

  “Ian Carmichael, I am with the Glosters, Lord Montfort.” His already rosy complexion deepened in hue as he hastily corrected himself: “I was with the Glosters at the Battle of Beauville Wood.” Lieutenant Carmichael had none of the diffidence of his brother officers; his earnest expression together with his bronzed cheeks and clear blue eyes made him a perfect candidate for one of Lord Kitchener’s recruiting posters.

  “And these gentleman,” Clementine extended a hand to the other two bringing up the rear, “are Lieutenant Forbes, who has been working at our Home Farm”—a very young officer, perhaps barely nineteen, saluted—“and Lieutenant Standish, who was working … where today, Lieutenant?”

  “At … Dodd Farm, Lady Montfort. Harvest will be in by … tomorrow.” There was still a hesitation in Standish’s speech, as if forming his consonants came with effort.

  “Nice enough sort of chaps,” her husband remarked, after they said goodbye and continued on down the drive.

  “They all are,” Clementine said loyally, “every single one of them; it is what makes me so grateful you agreed to our hospital.” And as they walked on together: “I hope that Harry and Althea were around to take care of Mr. Bray. I don’t know about you, but I feel pretty shaken up by the idea of telling him that his brother is dead.”

  Her husband stopped and turned to her, his face expressing more than concern. “Clemmy,” he said as he studied her face, “if you are not up to it then please don’t feel you have to join us for dinner. I will tell Valentine that you will talk to him tomorrow.” He watched her brows come up as she opened her mouth to protest, and he laughed. “What was I thinking? Of course you will talk to Valentine.” They walked on in companionable silence for a few moments and then he said, “You don’t think that one of the inmates at the hospital went stark staring mad and killed him, do you? Thought he was a Hun digging a trench and whacked him with the spade?”

  She laughed. “‘Inmates’? You make them sound like the criminally insane. You heard Mrs. Jackson; it was easy to account for all of our officers since we only have six of them, not including Captain Bray, at the hospital this week. And none of them could have murdered the captain.” She didn’t like to think about the stammering Lieutenant Phipps being hanged for this murder.

  “Six? Aren’t we getting any more?”

  “You sound rather competitive. There will be a War Office and Medical Board inspection next week and if they are satisfied with the work the hospital is doing, they will send us some more. Major Andrews told me that the numbers of men suffering from chronic neurasthenia has risen considerably since the Somme offensive.”

  He stopped again and turned to her in the golden light of early evening. “‘If they are satisfied’? You didn’t tell me about the War Office’s need to be satisfied—there must have been dozens who have come and gone from the hospital in the past ten months, most of them sound enough to return to the war.” He looked so affronted that she almost laughed. She could only imagine how much her hospital had cost him, both in patience and money.

  “Major Andrews told me that the War Office’s greatest concern is how long it takes him to help our officers return to a useful life. After all, an officer must have at least some semblance of confidence
to lead his men into battle. There is a chap in London called Dr. Yelland who specializes in mutism and he claims he can ‘cure’ men suffering from shell-shock in less than a week, but he only works with soldiers. We take sometimes as long as three months and the War Office think that perhaps Major Andrew’s talking cure and our cure through function are what they call ‘too soft,’ that if there are malingerers among our patients they can swing the lead for months.”

  ‘What does Yelland do that he is so effective?”

  “It is pretty barbaric stuff, it basically comes down to torture—electric shock treatment he calls it: a quick remedy maybe, but certainly not a cure.” They resumed their walk along the drive.

  “So none of these seven patients we have now could have killed Captain Bray then, I mean because they were seeing things or whatever Andrews calls it?”

  “Hallucinating? I really hope not. And we have six patients, Captain Bray was the seventh. As to who could have killed him, I think it all depends if Captain Bray was killed before lunch, during it, or half an hour afterwards. It would have been difficult for any of the officers helping at nearby farms to have found their way to the kitchen garden without their absence being noticed. And of the three officers making cider, only Phipps had the opportunity to murder Captain Bray.” In her mind she saw Lieutenant Phipps staggering into the courtyard and felt a moment of fierce protection toward the young man. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think, it matters what Mrs. Jackson thinks. She pretty well runs the hospital. But there might be others at Haversham Hall who had a reason for murdering that poor man.”

  “Aha,” he said as they walked on again. “Then I expect Mrs. Jackson will be over to the house, bright and early tomorrow morning, to report in.” Clementine glanced at her husband out of the corner of her eye. He was laughing at her, encouraging her to admit that she was already summoning her resources for a new inquiry. Her only response was to give him her brightest smile.

  “Of course you should investigate what happened, Clemmy. I am the last to say a word against it.”

  Her smile broadened but then lost some of its warmth when he said, “Just as, you know, you don’t go mad.”

  “Go mad?” What on earth does he mean?

  “Yes, precisely that. Exercise restraint. When you are nearing the truth, hand it over to Valentine to finish it off; let his be the back that bears the burden, especially if you unearth truths we would all rather not know about.”

  They had drawn level with the kitchen-garden courtyard and Clementine noticed that the strong aroma of apple juice still hung in the air; its concentrated sweetness permeated her thoughts as she enumerated possibilities, ticked off names, and asked questions. The hospital was an institution with a rigid timetable; it would be easy to establish alibis for their patients, and then they would be left with who on the hospital staff or in the surrounding area would have a reason to kill a man who had no memory of his life six months ago and who had appeared not to have made a friend or an enemy since he had come to them.

  Her husband interrupted her mental note-taking. “I expect that dreadful jumped-up Inspector Saber will arrest Phipps by the end of the day, after all he is the obvious choice, and it struck me that Saber is possessed of a commonplace mind.”

  “It’s Savor, darling, not Saber.”

  “Yes, isn’t that what I said? Come on, we must go and dress for dinner and then find Mr. Bray and tell him our wretched news.”

  Chapter Five

  Mrs. Jackson said good night to Colonel Valentine at the front door of the hospital, and then glancing at her watch made her way downstairs to the servants’ hall. Gathered around the table were Corporals West and Budge and the only two VAD girls who were not on leave this week: Mary Fuller and Sarah Ellis. All conjecture, speculation, and chatter came to an abrupt end as she walked into the room. Heads turned in her direction and curious eyes took in her clipboard with the hospital schedule attached to it. Corporal Budge had evidently told them that she had stayed behind to talk to Colonel Valentine.

  “Good evening, everyone. Where is Sister Carter?” she asked, and Corporal Budge answered that she was still in the medical wing. Mrs. Jackson sat down at the table and looked around at their expectant faces.

  “I am sure Sister Carter will talk to you when she has time. But I want to let you know what is going on, so far, with the police investigation into the death of Captain Bray.”

  “You mean murder, don’t you, Mrs. Jackson.” It was a statement, not a question; Corporal Budge was the straightforward type.

  The youngest and prettiest of the Voluntary Aid Detachment girls, Sarah Ellis, bent her head and sobbed into her hankie, and Mrs. Jackson reminded herself to be patient. How old is Ellis—twenty? My goodness, she is young for her age, she thought, not for the first time, as she watched a pink nose emerge from a damp handkerchief, the lower lip of the soft little rosebud mouth quivering in protest at distressing news.

  It had taken Ellis weeks to learn the simplest of domestic tasks when she had arrived at the hospital fresh from VAD training. She had not known how to make so much as a cup of tea and was incapable of completing any task in a timely fashion, leaving most of them half-finished as she flitted on to something else. But she was sweet-tempered and Mrs. Jackson had trained less-willing girls in her time. “Ellis, I can see you are distressed by all of this, it is a most upsetting thing to have happened. Go and wash your face and hands and then come along to my office please.” She looked around the table to Mary Fuller, the other VAD girl, who was still on duty in the hospital this week. “And, Fuller, I would like to see you after I have finished talking to Ellis.” She waved the schedule to reassure the young women that this was about hospital business.

  “Now then, about the police investigation into the death of Captain Bray: there has been no inquest yet, Corporal Budge, and until there is it would be unwise to talk of murder.” She looked away so as not to see his derisive expression. “I expect that Inspector Savor will want to talk to each of you. He will get to you when he can, so be prepared for a late night. There is no need to worry or panic about what he is going to ask you. But it is important you are completely honest with him. Keep your answers clear and accurate and we will probably not need to see him again beyond tomorrow.” This was probably not going to be the case at all, but from experience she knew how important it was not to set them all on the edge of their seats. The police would do that very well without her help. “That’s all.”

  She picked up the tea tray Cook had prepared for her and left, hearing exclamations of impatience and frustration from the overworked male orderlies, and wails from Ellis and Fuller. She walked up the back stairs to the main floor of the house, crossed the vast marble hall, and pushed open the door to her office with her shoulder. The room was in half-darkness; she set down her tray, switched on the light, and sat down at her desk to pour herself a cup of the reviving brew. She had just finished her first cup when there came a knock on her door and she called out to come in.

  “You wanted to see me, Mrs. Jackson?” Ellis had made an attempt to be presentable. Her cap was on straight over brushed red-gold curls and she had respectfully put on a clean apron. She came into the room and stood before Mrs. Jackson’s desk and waited.

  “There, that’s better,” Mrs. Jackson said with a brief smile of approval at her tidy appearance. “Now let’s talk about where you were today, shall we? You were on duty in the kitchen before luncheon?” she asked, and Ellis nodded.

  “Is that a yes?” she pursued.

  “Yes, Mrs. Jackson. I was helping the cook, we cleaned and prepared vegetables. Mr. Thrower had forgotten to bring us green beans for lunch, so Mary … Fuller was sent to get some from the kitchen garden.”

  “What time would that have been?” She kept her voice low and calm. She wanted Ellis to have a chance to tell her account before she met with Inspector Savor; it would help the girl if she had already run through her movements ahead of time.

 
“I expect it was at twelve, maybe a few minutes after. Cook sent her off and told her to hurry back so that we could prepare them in time for lunch in the officers’ mess.”

  “And what about you? What were your duties in the kitchen before you helped Cook with the vegetables?”

  “I cleaned up after Cook while she finished the stew. We had already made the apple pies.”

  “And earlier, before you worked in the kitchen?”

  The girl look puzzled for a moment. “Earlier? Mary and I put away the clean linen—we recorded everything in the linen inventory like you showed us.” That means there will be thirty pillow cases on hand even if the inventory ledger shows only three. Mrs. Jackson did not sigh.

  “Well, there is not much to do really when there are so few patients at the hospital this week, and we cleaned and tidied the officers’ mess yesterday. So today we just dusted the porcelain collection, threw away dead flowers and arranged fresh ones.” She thought for a moment and then added, “Oh yes, and Cook sent for me at eleven and told me to make up a basket lunch for Captain Bray and take it to him in the kitchen garden.”

  “Wasn’t that a bit early?”

  “Yes, but she was running behindhand and needed me back to help with the veg. It was just a pork pie, a piece of cake, and an apple. We often take it over early, we just put it down under the tree on the bench, so it’s handy—not that he ever eats it.”

  This early delivery of Captain Bray’s luncheon basket is an interesting change in hospital routine that I was not aware of. Mrs. Jackson sipped her second cup of tea as she considered the possibilities this alteration might have caused. “So you took him his luncheon in the kitchen garden, and then?”

  The girl had started to cry. “I can’t believe that someone…” Ellis wept, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Yes, it is very shocking, but in time the memory will fade. In the meantime we must try to carry on. Now use your hankie, that’s the way, and answer my question. So you took Captain Bray his luncheon…”